Quite the College Career Pt. 04

I know I touched on it earlier, but Alex and I busted our asses all through October. This night at the Nipley was our idea, and we wanted to see it succeed. Not just for the sake of our place of employment, but for us as well. Sure we had 'grades' and 'classes' to worry about, but why would we put our educations and futures in front of planning a Halloween party at our part-time job? Yeah Brendan put together most of the line-up, bought all the liquor, handled the day-to-day, and more or less put 3-4 of these things together weekly, but hey! This was our first time in the driver's seat. We wanted it to kick ass!

So what if we stayed up until 4 in the morning making and editing our flyer, putting Lisa's band front and center? Did we do this before we had them locked in? Yes. So what if called them 'Hellfire' on said flyer when they had yet to name themselves. We were young! Excited! Motivated!

And yeah, we blew off class to print them. We may or may not have exceeded our semester printing limit by about 200 pages. Word on the street was those kind of debts didn't need to get paid until graduation, and that was years down the road. And if we didn't get our diplomas, who cares (Note: You should always care, as we should have). So we have our flyers, we just need to get our stars.

That was an... interesting road. Alex and I beg and plead Lisa, Ruth, Roxy, and Rosy. Ruth is the easy sell, which is somewhat surprising. She's all for it, on one condition, which she lays out clearly in text.

"Your tongue on my clit."

So that's how Ruth winds up in my dorm late one afternoon, grinding her pussy on my face and screaming into her hand. I do my due diligence, after which she pulls off my pants while informing me she isn't done yet. When we are, I ask her if she's down to perform.

"Duh," she says. "But I've been pushing us to perform for awhile. Roxy will agree, but Lisa and Rosy are going to be tough."

"Why's that?" I ask. "Lisa doesn't want to perform until everything is perfect, every note on point," says Ruth. "Rosy, for all her tough talk, is shy as hell. She'll get up there eventually, but it'll take some convincing."

"Will she as fun to convince as you?" I ask. She giggles. "No. That'll take the three of us convincing her. So, you and Alex need to get Lisa on our side and we'll take care of the rest."

Lisa? I figure that's all Alex, and that night he goes to her place, and I kick back in the empty dorm, think about hitting up Ruth to come back over. Dare I say, she should invite Roxy too? I smile as I let my mind meander down that path. I close my eyes, see Ruth and Roxy pulling their tops off...

And am brought back to reality by a slamming door, stomping feet. It's not Ruth or Roxy standing before me, it's Lisa. And she is not topless. Nor, from the look in her eye, anywhere close to aroused. Alex follows behind her, eyes wide, shaking his head at me. I open my mouth to say something, am cut off when Lisa holds up a piece of crumpled paper. I'm struck dumb at the sight of our flyer.

"Hell...Fire?" Lisa asks, through gritted teeth. I stammer, am silenced by her glare.

"Hellfire," she says again. "The best you two morons can do... is... Hellfire?"

"Well, we thought that..."

"And where the fuck did this picture come from?" Lisa's voice is calm, a sudden calm, more disconcerting than if she decided to yell. I am afraid to answer. But I do, because, well, I'm far more scared to NOT answer.

"Instagram?" I whisper. I think my voice cracks when I say it. Lisa glares at me. "Whose?"

Her voice is little more than a whisper. I doubt that I have ever been more scared in my life. I glance at Alex, who shakes his head again. Does that mean play dumb?

"Uhhh... Rosy's." I say. "Or Roxy's." I laugh. "That's confusing, right? That has to get you guys messed up every once in awhile, I mean..."

Lisa holds up her hand, I trail off. She takes a deep breath. Closes her eyes. Another deep breath.

"You put my picture, and that of my closest friends, on a flyer that looks like it was made by an edgy eighth grader after too much Mountain Dew, and slap a shitty band name on us, and expect that to sell tickets? You think we're just a bunch of sex objects to be used by a couple of dumbasses?"

So first off... well, now, that I look at the flyer, the flames were probably too much. And okay, maybe we shouldn't have used Comic Sans to spell out 'Sexiest' when listing off the possible winning categories for the costume contest. But other than that, I thought it was okay. But wait, Lisa is waiting for my answer, lips pursed and left eyebrow jutted.

"Of course you aren't sex objects," I say. "You have any idea the quality of most of the bands we listen to at work? They suck! And yeah, we figured four college-aged gi... women would make a much better flyer than bunch of over the hill dudes trying to re-live the glory years that never happened. I will admit, we could have come up with a better name, but we needed something for the flyer, and after a couple of hours, that was the best we had. I'm sorry, we really should have asked you guys first."

"But you didn't," says Lisa.

"I know, and that was stupid," I say. I look past her at Alex. "Right?"

"Really fucking stupid," he says. "But Lisa already knows how I feel."

"Really fucking stupid, that's how he feels," Lisa says. "Really fucking stupid. You?"

"Pretty fucking stupid," I say with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"I know," says Lisa. She jerks her head at Alex. "He is too."

She spins on her heel, walks to the door. Alex moves out of her way.

"So are you guys out?" I call after her. Lisa looks back at me, scornful and haughty.

"Of course we're gonna fucking play," she says. "Just gotta let the rest of them know."

"Ruth's down, she says Roxy is too." I say. Lisa rolls her eyes. "She make you fuck her to say that?"

"Uhhh..." I say, and Lisa scoffs. "That fucking slut. Better had made it good though, you little prick. We'll get Rosy to say yes. Fuck both of you if you think we're playing as Hellfire though. We'll let you know our name when we get on the stage." She throws the flyer to the ground and walks out of our dorm, leaving Alex and I humbled and contrite. After a few moments, we look at each other. Alex shrugs.

"I mean, we already printed them out," he says. "Might as well put them up. No one will care about the name."

So we do. Cover the campus with them. Make an appearance on the campus radio station. Make the rounds of every major social group we can think of. Lisa calls up Alex after ten days or so, they fight, he goes to her place, disappears for a couple days. Comes back exhausted. Apparently that makes it right, or at least better. I ask Ruth if I should talk to Rosy, she says no. But they're practicing, so that's a good sign, right?

Meanwhile, Alex and I are booking it, both at the Nipley and out, getting things ready. We drop a couple hundred bucks of our own money into decorations, lights, make sure the Nipley will look good. Alex actually draws up a diagram of the place, we lay out where everything will go. Brendan gets the guys who work the opposite weekends as us to work the night, and we finally meet them. Drew and Wes, about twice our age and three time as hairy. Nice dudes though, a little too willing to share their weed. Whatever, good people. Can't say we say no.

We even, in a stroke of pure brilliance (yeah okay it was Brendan's idea) get a couple food trucks to post up outside the Nipley until close. One of them is a mini-doughnut truck and yeah it sounds juvenile but damn the smell alone will probably attract half the campus.

The night before the big show, just before the Nipley opens for the night, we have a final meeting. Alex and I will come in around 2 the next afternoon, get the place ready. Drew and Wes will come in at 6, help us with any final details. Sue and Brendan, whom I am starting to wonder if they ever leave, will be in their usual places. Hell yeah. Everything should go off without a hitch.

This is very stupid of me to think. Why?

Exhibit A: This is a college town.

Exhibit B: This is a college town on Halloween.

Exhibit C: I am naive and stupid.

I don't recognize these things at the time, of course (Why? See Exhibit C). Brendan puts me and Drew at the door, checking IDs and stamping everyone who's underage. Brendan throws out two stools on either side of the door, and puts a hand on each of our shoulders.

"Not a single fake ID gets through you, that's you," Brendan says, nodding at Drew. "And you stamp everyone underage, I don't care how many tits get shoved under your face. Any dumbass college kids want to get drunk they can do it somewhere else. Not here. Take cash if they have it, but since no one uses fucking cash anymore, you boys know how to run a card?" We each nod. I mean, we don't, but how hard can it be?

Brendan shakes us. "You boys ready?"

We say yes, of course. Nothing can go wrong tonight, right?

Hey, we're (I'm) young, excited, motivated!

--

Emma looks me in the eye, holds up her ID. She's flanked by two of her friends, and all three girls are wearing more or less matching outfits. Knee-high boots, lacey boyshorts, bras with lots of extra straps. Thick make-up and cat ears. One's got a lace mask over her eyes.

"You guys going for the group category?" I ask.

"Yup," says Emma, still holding up her ID. Drew looks over at me, one eyebrow raised. I shine a flashlight on her ID, hold up a stamp.

"Everyone under 21 needs a stamp. 5$ cover." One of her friends holds up a $20. I break it. Emma doesn't break her stare as I stamp her hand.

"Good luck," I say. Emma stares at me a second longer, walks away without a word. Her friends follow her. The one with the mask lingers a moment longer, our eyes meet. Her look is indiscernible, then she slides towards the door, lithe as the the animal she's dressed as. Hard not to follow after her (or the other two) with my eyes. I realize the one that held back wasn't wearing boots, but black socks that stop just short of mid-thigh and ankle high boots. Drew looks at me.

"That was weird," he says.

"Yeah," I say.

"You fuck her?" He asks, as a couple dressed as a pirate and a... pirate hooker? Whatever, a couple dressed as pirates walk up.

"Almost," I say. Drew checks the pirates' IDs and I stamp their hands. "Might have hooked up with her sister too."

Drew chuckles, shakes his shaggy head. "College, man."

--

When the line dies down I move inside, leaving Drew to man the door alone. The place is packed, far more than we've seen before. A mostly younger crowd than usual, and by the looks of it we're going to have a hell of a show during the costume contest later. I meet up with Alex behind the sound board as he feeds a steady stream of classic rock over the speakers.

"We good?" I ask. He nods. "So far, so good. Packed out, right?"

"Seriously," I say. I glance over at the bar. Brendan and Sue are back there, doling out drinks to the older crowd. Most of the older guys there have the back to the bar, enjoying the views in the crowd a bit too much. Well, that's gross.

"You check out the old guys with their tongues hanging out of their mouths?" I say, jerking my head to the bar. Alex glances over and shakes his head.

"Pervs bro, you want to make sure Wes has his eye on them, make sure nothing gets out of hand?" I nod. Wes is at the corner of the stage, keeping people off of it and using his relatively large bulk to keep people in line. I push my way through the crowd to his side. Wes nods at me, gives me a thumbs up.

"You good?" He yells over music. I nod, lean close to his ear and tell him about the guys at the bar.

"Can't do much about looking," he yells in my ear. "I'll keep an eye on them though, anyone gets handsy they'll be out on their ass." I respond with a thumbs up of my own, then move back to the green room. With the number of groups playing tonight the bands spill out into the hallway, packed in and grumbling about the lack of room. I take their complaints with a smile and keep walking until I find my goal, Hellfire. Or, whatever they're calling themselves. Not hard to find them, 4 girls clustered in a group surrounded my men mostly twice their age, though one other group seems pretty close to our age. The girls are huddled up, talking amongst themselves. The goal of their attire seems to be schoolgirl slasher, and I take a moment to appreciate the short skirts, ripped tights and ragged white shirts. I can't see their faces yet as they're huddled together, but from the look of the one who's back is to me, I'm coming up on Rosy. I tap her on the shoulder, then jump when she turns.

The face that turns to me is not Rosy. Well, it is, I guess. Her face is caked in white, blood dripping from the corners of her blackened mouth. Black make-up slashes vertically across her eyes, making her look more devilish than Pennywise. It's her eyes though...

"Contacts?" I ask. Rosy arches one eye, bemused. "No dumbass, they always look like this. All the other times you've seen me is with my human disguise on."

I chuckle, trying to look at ease. It's difficult though, I must admit. Rosie's eyes are a milky white, the contacts she wears blocking all color in them. I look past her at the rest of the group. Their face make-up is more or less the same, though they've gone without the contacts. Ruth winks at me and smiles, and Roxy blows me a kiss.

"How do we look?" Roxy asks. Their ripped shirts don't pass their navels and their skirts are far less than mid-thigh. Satanic clown make-up aside, they look killer.

"Awesome," I say. "You guys are on third." Rosy nods. "Come up with a name yet?"

Rosy opens her mouth to respond, but Lisa cuts her off. "You'll hear it when we get on stage."

I raise my hands in surrender. "Have it your way. You guys have everything you need?" They nod, then turn back into their huddle, Ruth giving me an extra flip of her skirt as she does so. I check in with the rest of the bands as I squeeze back through to the main room. It seems even more packed than before, and I wonder if Drew and I were supposed to be counting the crowd as they came in. Whatever, we have other things to focus on. I check back in with Alex, then run over to Brendan and Sue. Everything seems to be going along pretty well, Brendan sends me to the stage to make sure everything is ready. Instruments a go, everything connected. Just a few minutes until 9, when the first band will come on. I jump down from the stage and head back to the sound board, grab a seat next to Alex.

"We're rolling bro," I say. He smiles, claps me on the shoulder, lowers the music and grabs the microphone sitting in front of him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight to the Nipley's Battle of the Bands. For those of you who want to take part in our costume contest, sign-ups for each category are the bar until 9:30. Only 30 more minutes, grab a spot while you can. Now... You guys ready to rock!?" The crowd cheers. "Alright!" Alex yells into the mic, "Our first band is a group of hometown boys made good give it up for... Spiderflame!"

Stupid name? Yes. Good band? To be honest, they're not bad. It's the other group I saw back age whose median age wasn't 45. Each band tonight gets a twenty minute set. Prep time will fly between, and the goal is to have the five bands done by 11:00. Costume contest starts about 11:20. Will we stick to the timetable? We'll see.

Spiderflame does their thing, and again, they're pretty good. A bunch of covers, one original song to end their set. By the end I'm nodding along with the music. They wave to the crowd, the lead singer tells them to look them up on Soundcloud, and the crowd cheers as they walk off. They leave the stage, clearing it for Alex and I to run up and help the next band with set-up. Drew and Wes stay at the front of the platform, keeping the pressed crowd back. The guitarist and bass player of the next band join us on stage, helping with the transition. Alex ducks back to the sound board once the instruments are set up and coordinates with the band. All in all we do a good job, get the next band up in just under 14 minutes by my watch. Fast enough? No, but we'll see if we can knock it down on the next round. I blame the bass player, who kept Alex making minute adjustments on the board, making almost no difference at all to his sound, for far too long. Minor hiccup, right?

"And now..." Alex hops back on the mic while flipping the bass player off under the table. "We bring you... Thunderblood!"

The name doesn't do much for me, the music even less. Metal band, confusing cacophony for skill. Who needs more than a couple power chords, right? Not Thunderblood. Their singer screams into the mic and the crowd is... less than receptive. Thunderblood continues their assault on the senses for their allotted time, and then continues on. One song bleeds into the next, and 20 minutes turns into 25. We're waving them down from the booth, trying to get them to shut up. Wes and Drew are casting glances back at them, trying to get the message across with some semblance of discretion. At the thirty minute mark Alex and I are staring at each other, no idea what to do. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and see Brendan climbing into the booth. His face is set and he looks beyond pissed. He stands behind us, glaring at the band, until the song ends. The guitarist picks up his riff for the next intro, and Brendan leans over us and cuts all their power. He picks up the mic in front of Alex.

"Hell of a performance by Thunderblood, give it up for them!" The band is glaring at us, and Brendan matches their gaze with one of his own. "Now who's ready for the next set?" A weaker applause than before is his response. Brendan pushes the mic into Alex's hand. "Last time these dumbasses ever play here. I'll talk with them, and make sure the rest of the bands know to stick to their time limit. You boys get the next ones set up."

Seeing as how we have something of a personal stake in the next band, Alex and I are determined to make sure everything's perfect. I clap Drew on the shoulder as I jump past him onto the stage. The bass player from Thunderblood is still up there messing with the amp, and I kneel down next to him, trying not to react to his body odor.

"Need a hand?" I ask. He turns his head slowly, glares at me. "You fuckers better never cut us off again."

I laugh, in all honesty, without meaning to. This guy is maybe 5'4", 120. Stringy hair, really crappy mustache. His eyes widen with rage at my laughter.

"Right," I say, not sure how else to respond. "Just get off the stage, the next band is up."

"Fuck you," he says. I sit for a moment, make sure the crowd noise is loud enough to cover up my response. "Fuck off dumbass, you've wasted enough of our time." The guy actually hisses at me, but he leaves. I watch him as he stalks off, wondering if I had truly just experienced that. Lisa moves past him without a glance, but wrinkles her nose, then raises an eyebrow at my face.

"You alright?" She asks as she kneels down next to me, guitar in one hand. I shake my head. "Yeah. That dude just hissed at me."

"Hissed like a snake?" Lisa asks. I shrug. "I mean... yeah, kinda."

She rolls her eyes. "Metal dudes are some of the coolest dudes or biggest dweebs I've ever met. Not surprised these guys suck with how they ran over time. Your boss made sure we all knew not to do the same." She leans past me and hooks up her guitar.

"Yeah, he was pissed," I respond. "You need a hand?"

"I could tell, him and the singer were laying into each other back there. And I'm good, thanks." Just then, Alex kneels down next to us.

"You good?" He asks Lisa. She winks. "I'm good, sugar booty."

I laugh, Alex stares at her. "That's new," he says.